


Worked Shoot

by waywardrose



Series: Call It In the Ring [2]
Category: Saturday Night Live, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Alternate Universe - College/University, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Masturbation, Nude Photos, Photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 23:56:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20629670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardrose/pseuds/waywardrose
Summary: Photography midterms were due in two weeks, and you only had one of the four photos you needed. You silently berated yourself because you’d known this was coming. It was on the damn syllabus.But who actually read the syllabus?





	Worked Shoot

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous said: I’m OBSESSED!! With xoxo. Modern triplets is my fav and you do such a great job at writing them! I hope you do another part. Possibly involving them eating dinner and heading to Kylo’s bedroom ;)
> 
> (The xoxo sweet nonny here is referring to is [Hotshot House Show](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20193853). (At the time, I hadn’t put the title on the post. Oops!))
> 
> I adore modern Solo triplets as well! I’m glad I’ve done them justice in your eyes. So, with that in mind, how about a sequel instead of a continuation of the night? I hope this satisfies. Thank you for reading and prompting!

You’d been setting up all morning in preparation for the afternoon light. You were sweating. The heating in the house had been turned up just for this afternoon, and it felt like a sauna. You’d stripped off your insulating layers until you were just in a thin t-shirt and leggings.

Photography midterms were due in two weeks, and you only had one of the four photos you needed. You silently berated yourself because you’d known this was coming. It was on the damn syllabus.

But who actually read the syllabus?

Tuesday’s class had been all about the midterm. While it wasn’t a huge portion of your grade, you certainly didn’t want to flunk it. You had to produce two portraits and two still-life. You’d taken a page out of Edward Weston’s book and gone to the grocery story for interestingly-shaped vegetables.

Your first photo had been a great shot of loose potatoes in their wood crate. You stuck the lens right through the slates to capture the lumpy topography and texture of dirt. You’d futzed with f-stops, angles, and your macro lens right there in the produce section.

At the end of the impromptu shoot, you’d dug around in the crate for older potatoes. Sprouted potatoes were gnarly and would make an excellent close-up. None had been sprouting, unfortunately, but you bought a few to take back to your dorm to mature on the windowsill. Your roommate wasn’t impressed with your newly-washed potato pets, but she didn’t protest either.

After staring at your potato pets for a few minutes, you texted Kylo to see how far he’d gotten with his midterm project. The absolute butthead reported he only had one portrait to go before he was ready to print and mount. You groaned and asked him how he’d shot everything so quickly.

He replied, _Read the syllabus and planned it out._

Kylo read the syllabus. Nerd.

_How many you got done?_ he asked.

You typed the number one followed by a string of crying emojis. He sent back a single worried face. The text bubble popped up, so you waited before replying. It disappeared and reappeared, and you wondered what the hell he was typing.

He sent a black-and-white nude of a white woman in repose. She lounged on the floor. The sunlight from an out-of-frame window painted her in dramatic shadows. She had propped herself on one arm with her legs stretched to the side. Her other arm was bent and partially obscuring her averted face. She was elegant insouciance. Something about her was unposed, as if the picture had been a candid or an in-between shot just to use up film.

_Anita Ekberg by Mickey Pallas_, he sent. A moment later, he added: _I’d like my last portrait to be like this_

He finished: _With you_

You’d never done anything like that. Nudity wasn’t a big deal. You’d taken Life Drawing last year, seeing all sorts of naked bodies, and it really was no big deal. But this was you. You’d never posed for nude photography. You had tried taking nudes, but it never quite worked. Angles were hard.

Also, Kylo had never seen you naked.

You had made out with him a handful of times—which was always hot. You’d gotten your hands all over him. However, the down-and-dirty hadn’t happened yet. There was always a privacy issue or time running out or interruptions.

_I like this one too_, he sent with a link.

You clicked on the link to see another black-and-white nude of a different female model. The photo credit stated “Les Berlingots” by Fernand Fonssagrives. The model was streaked in narrow shadows, morning sun through striped sheers. The shadows serpentined over her graceful curves. You could feel the love the photographer had for her.

You wondered if this was how Kylo saw you. It was flattering if he did. Or maybe he was simply trying to get you naked.

_Idk_, you replied.

_You don’t like them?_

_No I like them_

Both photos were masterfully done, honestly. Spare and focused and well thought-out.

You added, _Idk about me being the model_

_It doesn’t have to be frontal. We can’t submit full nudes anyway_

_Let me think about it_, you sent.

He left you alone for the day, though you knew he was antsy for a real answer. Maybe there was a compromise. However, you couldn’t immediately think of one.

That evening you googled some famous photographers for inspiration. Dorothea Lange was great, but she wasn’t the vibe you were feeling. Margaret Bourke-White was cool, too, but again, not the vibe. You switched to fashion photographers and admired some of the portraits by Richard Avedon. Somehow, you found yourself looking at fashion shoots from the ‘60s.

Then you stumbled upon the pretty Dees triplets. They’d been featured in _Life Magazine_. You found multiple photos of them posed together. Sometimes they wore the same outfits, in some they only coordinated. But in all they were stylish.

You pointed out that you knew triplets.

The last dream of the night was of taking pictures. _Of course._ The subject didn’t matter because, in the dream, you already knew the subject. They was clear and perfect. You had them framed perfectly and lit to the gods. However, the digital daguerrotype attached to your shoulder didn’t want to keep its settings. You woke up frustrated with a non-existent camera. On the other hand, you also woke up with your compromise.

You rolled over to grab your phone and texted Kylo: _I’ll sit for your portrait if you and your brothers do one for me. I won’t do frontal and you three need to be naked_

It was hours before he replied, _Ben’s already agreed he’s been wanting to show you what he’s got for weeks_

_Like you haven’t_

_I think you’ve touched it enough to know what I’ve got_

You sent the smiling devil emoji because, hell yes, you had. Even if it had only been through his jeans. He had nothing to be ashamed of. You supposed that would apply to his brothers as well.

Kylo reported later in the evening Matt had concerns about revealing his face. You contemplated only showing the triplets from the neck down. You could work with that. It might actually be better since they didn’t have the same look.

You agreed to no faces or genitals. That would keep everything PG-13 and within the midterm parameters. The triplets gave you their blessing and the use of their house for the shoot.

Which was how you found yourself hefting dining chairs into their darkened living room on a Saturday morning instead of sleeping in. As you set up the room and your equipment, the triplets withdrew to their bedrooms to disrobe and let any pressure marks from their clothing dissipate. You finished just as the sunlight was starting to stream in through the sliding-glass door in the dining room.

You hopped on top of the relocated dining table and drank the water Matt had provided before withdrawing. You envisioned how you wanted them to pose, how the golden light would play on their skin. Even keeping to Matt’s no-faces, the midterm’s no-genitals, rule left a lot of angles and shots to explore.

There was no point in delaying anymore.

“Guys?” you called. “You ready?”

They quietly shuffled through the house, and you slid off the table as Kylo and Ben came from the second floor while Matt trudged up the lower-level stairs. You reminded yourself they were your models for the shoot and not three hot naked men. You would not ogle them or make them feel uncomfortable. This was your first foray into professionalism, and you wouldn’t fuck it up.

Matt came in first with hands cupping his junk. He didn’t have his glasses on. You asked if he needed them, because it wouldn’t matter for your shots. He replied they weren’t necessary—they were only blue-light-filtering glasses.

Kylo and Ben came up behind Matt as he said, “I forget I’m wearing them sometimes.”

“Yeah, our sweet baby boy here doesn’t mind looking like a geek,” Ben commented as he sauntered around his brothers, like being naked in front of a virtual stranger was no biggie. His twitchy hands gave him away, though.

“Shut up, _proto,”_ Matt grumbled, his cheeks pinking.

Kylo rolled his eyes and shoved Ben further into the room. He wouldn’t look at you.

Ben staggered from the shove as he replied, “Blow me, Discount Barbie.”

“Don’t insult your future girlfriend.”

“At least I talk to girls.”

You interjected, “He talks to me.”

All three froze and looked at you. With a shrug, you stared back. That seemed to cow them.

You told them to stand with their backs to the wall. You wanted a couple test shots to make sure the camera levels were right. Through the viewfinder, you watched them. The sunlight reflected off the pale carpet and hit their creamy skin perfectly. You quickly snapped a few shots as they got comfortable.

Ben cuffed Matt’s shoulder. “Loosen up, Supervirg.” He shook his shoulders to show Matt what he meant. Somehow, that shake moved down his body until he was shimmying his hips. His limp cock bounced against his thighs.

“Fucking quit, _Ben,”_ Kylo hissed as Matt made a face at Ben.

From behind the camera, you grinned. You had expected some helicoptering or suggestive dick-wags. You wondered if Ben knew girls weren’t really into that. His exes, you were sure, had giggled at his antics regardless. He was gregarious and full of bravado—and secretly kindhearted.

You’d seen him across the quad between the English and Sciences buildings a week and a half ago. He’d seen you as well. Instead of throwing you a wave, he’d left his friends to jog to you. He’d walked with you for a bit, talking up Kylo the whole time. Like you were having your doubts about his brother.

“Alright, children,” you announced as you straightened.

The triplets quieted, and you told them how you wanted them. You helped them adjust, checking in with them and keeping your hands to their shoulders. Once they were in place, you stepped back to admire.

You posed each of them to have overlapping shoulders while angled away from the wall. You got them to stand like Michelangelo’s _David_ with one hand resting on their respective shoulder and looking in the same direction. There were minute variations because of hair style, muscle density, and flexibility. However, it was obvious they were triplets even when you didn’t look at their faces.

Maybe it was a trite pose, but they looked beautiful. You reminded yourself it was called a classic pose for a reason.

You took a dozen plain shots, zooming close to get them from the neck down. The sun was just right. You slid the camera off the tripod and moved around the room to find angles you liked. You got shots of their hands, the way their elbows echoed, the softly defined muscles of their bellies, the way their skin shone in the light.

At the end of the line-up, Matt’s lowered hand caught your attention, and you asked if you could get a shot of it. He stumbled over a _yes_ and asked if he needed to do anything. You told him to relax and ignore you. You got on your knees, tilted your camera 90-degrees, and framed his hand just right. You caught the faint beginnings of his dark pubic hair, which made the shot somehow organic and sexy.

You looked up their bodies to see Kylo staring down at you. There was something about his expression, but you didn’t have time to analyze it. You pointed your camera at his face and took rapid-fire shots.

Ben was at the other end of the line. You stood and moved next to him, catching the curl of his wrist and the ball of his shoulder. He grinned at you, all pink-cheeked and charming, when you finally pulled the camera away from your face. You smiled back and snapped a shot of his glowing face.

Then there was Kylo. You brushed a stray hair or two off his forehead. In response, he closed his eyes. You whispered for him to stay still. It was difficult to stay objective with him in front of you. He was serene, vulnerable, and soft. And so _kissable._ You framed shot after shot, trying to capture him.

“Look at me,” you murmured.

Just as he opened his eyes and found your face, you took a picture. You knew instinctually that was going to be a personal favorite.

You asked them for one more. Your camera interrupted as it whined for fresh batteries, though. You told them to put their arms down and look into the living room. They rallied, relaxing as you retreated and loaded new batteries. Once ready, you backed away to the sliding-glass door and zoomed in to capture their aquiline profiles.

After taking a few insurance shots, you announced you were finished. The triplets sagged as one and laughed amongst themselves. You put the camera back on the tripod and took a few candids of them smiling. You didn’t know if the shots would turn out well, but you could always frankenstein them.

Matt was the first to leave. You thanked him before he did and offered to email him any good shots of himself. He replied he’d like that before scurrying to his lower-level bedroom.

Meanwhile, Ben put his hands on his hips, his fingers aiming at his dick. He asked if you were hungry or thirsty or desired _anything._You glanced at Kylo before stating you’d like the thermostat to be turned down to less-than-jungle. Ben took the dismissal with grace. You thanked him, too—even though he’d been so eager to get naked for you.

Kylo scuffed his heel on the carpet and gnawed at his lip before saying: “You wanna stay? Have lunch?”

You thought of the camera’s memory card full of photos that needed to be culled or edited, but you didn’t want to leave. It was only for a little bit, anyway. You hadn’t seen him outside of class all week, either.

You nodded. “Sure!” You pointed at your equipment. “Just let me pack this stuff up.”

He thumbed behind his shoulder. “Cool, I’ll get some pants on.”

You finally let yourself look at him, really see him as more than a subject for a portrait. The long lines of him were alluring; the beautiful turn of his forearms; the broad planes of his pecs. The gentle iliac furrows on either side of his hips drew your attention down to his cock and the thin thatch of hair above it.

“Pants are optional,” you stated before taking your camera off the tripod. If you kept staring, you were going to do or say something embarrassing.

“Uh, yeah, good to know. You want some help?”

“Nah, I got this.”

There was an awkward beat before he offered you more water or a coffee or whatever. You opted for ice water, and he padded away, giving you a great view of his backside. You wanted to follow him around the house and take photos as he did things in the nude. Instead, you capped the camera lens and folded the portable tripod, stowing everything in your backpack.

You shouldered the backpack and threw your thick hoodie on the couch arm next to your sneakers and socks. It was still too hot in the house to cover up. You met him at the foot of the stairs. He appeared to angle his hips away from you—like you hadn’t gotten an eyeful earlier.

“You can leave your backpack down here,” he pointed out. “They won’t mess with it.”

You shrugged your unoccupied shoulder. “Never know when inspiration will hit.”

Kylo studied you for a second before nodding. “After you,” he said and moved his occupied hands towards the stairs.

You guess he didn’t want to lead the way, all things considered. At the top of the short flight, the din of some movie escaped Ben’s closed door. You thought you caught the opening melody from the first _Lord of the Rings_ movie. You stood to the side to let Kylo enter his dark bedroom first.

He flicked on an elbow lamp attached to his desk as you closed the door after yourself. Nothing much had changed in the past week. The black-out drapes remained closed, The Moon tarot-card tapestry still hung behind the generic headboard, the iron-gray quilted comforter set was wrinkled as always.

During that first official date—beginning with the impromptu wrestling match between Kylo and Ben in the living room—he’d shown you his room. He said the house was a furnished rental—his mother’s idea. Most of his stuff was at her place. You asked after his wording. Were his parents divorced? He said it wasn’t like that. His parents loved each other and wanted to be married, but couldn’t live under the same roof.

You walked your backpack to the desk and leaned it on a leg. He’d tacked up a few new sketches on the cork board by his desk. There was a new test sheet for calligraphy, too.

“Here,” he said and offered you a glass of water.

You thanked him and drank deep. He sat on his bed and sipped at his own. He obscured his groin with a forearm. You wondered if he was self-conscious, but trying to hide it. He had nothing to worry about with you. Maybe you should say something.

“You’re gorgeous, you know,” you began, holding your glass in front of you. “You don’t have to hide.”

He set his glass down on the nightstand and wiped his palm on a thigh.

You continued, “But if you’d rather…”

“I feel like I’m gonna pop a boner any second,” he muttered.

The very thought of him naked and hard had you feeling hot all over. Your cheeks burned. He’d been hard around you before, even because of you, but not like this.

You looked at his hands, thought of him writhing on his bed as he stroked his straining erection. He’d probably done that each time after you left. Not like you were any different, only you’d taken to lingering in the shower to make yourself come at least once.

You whispered, “It’s okay if you do.”

His head jerked up at that, and his eyes danced across your face. For a moment, he appeared to have a question. You wanted him to ask whatever he wished. He could say anything.

When he said nothing, you put your glass down on the desk and knelt to open your backpack. You watched him as you did, but he didn’t seem to mind you going for the camera. When you stood, camera in hand, he sat up straight.

“Lie back against the pillows,” you said as you uncapped the lens.

Kylo scooted to the center of the bed and reclined. You asked him to let his hands fall to the side and get comfortable. As he did, you angled the elbow lamp to bounce light off the wall instead of the formica desktop.

You quickly turned on the camera, fine-tuned the settings, and took a picture. You knew that one hadn’t been right, so you got between his feet and snapped another. His eyes glittered in the incandescent light as they followed you. His hair fanned out around his head like a black nimbus. The curve of his torso was graceful and sinewy. He was an angel without wings.

You kept taking pictures, entranced by his look, by the way he relaxed for you. You stood over him on the bed and became aware that his cock was now hard against his abdomen. You asked him if he was okay.

“I wanna touch you,” he replied.

You realized you hadn’t really touched him this whole time. There had been a maneuvering of his shoulder for the shoot, or bumping into him as you moved furniture before that. But that wasn’t the same.

“How do you want to touch me?” you asked as you took another shot.

“Would it be wrong to say I wanna grab your hair and kiss you hard?”

You eased onto your knees to hover above him, snapping pictures as you did. “No.”

Kylo writhed against the bed and keened. The blush on his cheeks deepened.

You took another picture. “Tell me more.”

“I want—_fuck_—I want you to ride me.”

“Like this?” you asked and settled on his lap. The hot ridge of his cock nudged your underwear against your wet slit. You rolled your hips and took a picture as his mouth dropped open.

“Tits bouncing in my face.”

You gathered up your t-shirt to reveal your bra. There wouldn’t be much bouncing with it on, but you cupped a breast all the same.

With a moan, he reached for you. “Enough pictures.”

You inched back. “Just one more: touch yourself.”

He wrapped both hands around his erection with a groan. His look of surrender was perfection. You took one last picture of him with eyes closed and brow furrowed in pleasure before turning off the camera. You placed it on the floor and then put your hands on his forearms to stop him.

He paused. _“Please.”_

“You want me to…?” You nodded at his groin.

He bit his bottom lip and shook his head. “Lemme hold you.”

Your stomach swooped at that. While you knew he wanted to fuck you, and you him, he found being close to you just as important. You crawled to his left side as he lifted that arm. You lay against his side and smoothed a palm up his firm chest. His hand was in your hair, and he forced you down for a kiss.

You cupped his throat as you kissed him hard and then deep. He moaned into the kiss, arching into your touch. His tongue slid against yours. He tasted like watered-down toothpaste. His lips were plush and wet with your spit.

He broke the kiss with a groan deep in his chest. You could feel the muscles of his shoulder bunch as he pumped his cock. He stared in your eyes as his hand skated from your hair down your back to grip your ass. You gave him a little kiss before tucking your face under his chin. He cursed as you dragged your lips over his hammering pulse. His skin had the faintest tang of salt.

You turned his head by the jaw, and he whimpered. His chest undulated against you as his thighs spread. The hand on your back fisted your leggings.

“Gonna come,” he breathed. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“Good,” you whispered and moved up to suck on his earlobe.

He panted out unfinished words until he suddenly choked on a gasp. His whole body tensed. You snuck a look down his torso. His cock was red and so hard as he began to climax. White strings of come shot up his stomach. His hips surged to fuck his fist, and weaker gushes streamed out with every pump.

You directed your gaze to his blissful face as he caught his breath. As if feeling your scrutiny, he turned his head to look at you. That was the look you’d been going for earlier. There was such tenderness there. He was defenseless and open and still _yearning_. Such a look could split you open with its gentle power.

You smiled at him as your eyes started swimming with tears, and cradled his cheek. “So gorgeous.”

Kylo curled up to catch your lips against his. You yielded to him; to his lips, his teeth, his tongue. He shifted on the bed as he wiggled his right hand under your leggings.

You stiffened and pulled away. “Wha…?”

He shushed you, kissing you again. “Let me make you come.” His hand paused against your belly. “Can I?”

You snorted and decided to tease him—just a little. “I don’t know. Can you?”

“I shouldn’t now because of that stupid joke.” He pouted, but you could tell it was all for show.

“Aw, you mean you don’t want to touch my aching—” You rolled onto your back to hook your thumbs under the waistband of your leggings. “—wet—” You stretched the waistband down. “—pussy?”

Kylo’s hips rolled forward of their own accord. He stared at the newly revealed part of your torso and licked his lips.

It was quiet for a heart-stopping second before he ordered, “Get this shit off. All of it.”

A thrill went through you at his tone, and you wiggled out of your leggings and underwear, tossing them over his shoulder. He pulled you by the hip against him. His cooling come smeared between you. It should’ve been gross, but it wasn’t. It was evidence of his desire.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him with everything you had. He warmly hummed into the kiss as he went from gripping your hip to squeezing one cheek of your ass. He rocked you, and you could feel his cock twitch against your thigh. It made you wish he hadn’t just come. And that you had condoms.

You hadn’t thought to get any from the campus clinic.

Kylo urged your top leg over his hip and pushed his hand between your legs. The first touch to your dripping slit had you regretting a lack of condoms all the more. You told yourself you could get some later. First, you needed to take the edge off your lust for him.

“So wet,” Kylo softly praised. “Been wanting to touch you for weeks.”

“Weeks?”

He stroked two fingers over your clit. “Yeah, since, like, the second day of class.”

In truth, you’d noticed him the first day. That long, wavy hair. Those pretty brown eyes. That kissable mouth. You purposefully sat diagonal from him in class, tilted your head to elongate your neck, and even gave him a smile when your eyes met. During the second week of the semester, you introduced yourself before class started and asked his major.

“First day,” you said.

_“Fuck_, really?”

You nodded.

“Shit.” He kissed you and sucked on your bottom lip. “You’re so pretty.”

That suck had your eyes rolling back in their sockets and your lower body clenching on nothing. You mewled and rolled your hips. His fingers—thicker than yours, touching more with each stroke—slid just right over every sensitive centimeter of your pussy.

He eased those two wet fingers inside you, and groaned, “So hot.”

He then nestled his thumb right on your clit. He massaged it and curled his fingers against the front wall of your pussy. Your leg tightened on his hip as you moaned. He asked if you liked that, and you nodded.

He didn’t thrust his fingers in and out of you. You felt more caressed than finger-fucked. He kept the pressure on your clit and rubbed it in little circles.

You buried your face between the mattress and his neck to muffle your panting. His fingers felt so good. Better than you dreamed. You breathed in the scent of his skin and soap and detergent and sweat.

“Tell me what you need,” he said.

“Faster.”

The circling of his thumb sped up, as did the internal stroking, and you nodded as you bit back a groan. You clutched at his shoulder and pulled at him. You needed to anchor yourself because you felt you were going to fly apart or explode or some other catastrophic thing. Your thighs quivered, and you tried not to squirm.

Maybe you wanted those catastrophic things to happen.

His lips were gentle on your neck. The simple touch went straight down your body. You groaned as he ratcheted you closer and closer to climax.

“You gonna come?” he asked.

You nodded with a little _mm-hm_.

“Gush all over my fingers, baby.” He pressed a little harder on your clit. “Fuck, I want you to come so bad.”

And he got what he wished for. Between the two fingers moving inside you and the thumb rubbing on your clit, you came like a crash of thunder. You shook as orgasm rumbled through you. Each delicious roll of it made your body stiffen and jerk in his arms. He held you through it and didn’t stop until you were whimpering from the intensity of every touch.

He soothed you down. His thick fingers felt solid inside you. His thumb insulated your clit.

Kylo shushed you a second time, and you realized you’d been making noise the whole time. Your face heated anew. You whispered an apology, but he shushed that, too.

“Don’t worry about it. The walls’re pretty insulated.”

You hiccuped a laugh and relaxed on the bed. You felt loose and warm and _happy_. He smiled, hovering over you. He wet his bottom lip. So pink and flushed. You pulled at the nape of his neck to get him to kiss you. He groaned and did just that.

Mid-kiss, he slowly edged his fingers out of you. You whined at the loss, but loved when he hugged you. He held you tight and pushed a leg between yours, as if trying to get even closer to you. His cock was half-hard against your thigh.

You broke the kiss to say: “We need condoms.”

“There’s a bin in the kitchen with a bunch.”

You laughed, _“What?”_

“Ben’s idea.” He shrugged. “He mostly uses them.”

“Mostly?”

“I, uh—” He looked sheepish all of a sudden and glanced down. “I have a dildo.”

“Me, too,” you said, trying not to make a big deal of it. Because it wasn’t. “I hardly ever get to use it because of my roommate.”

But, Lord above, the thought of him working his prostate…

“Maybe you can bring yours over, and we can have a…” He blushed as he struggled for the word. He landed on: “A thing.”

You grinned, though you felt your cheeks heat. “A thing?”

“A mutual demonstration.”

You liked the sound of that. “After midterms?”

“Yeah,” he agreed and descended upon you to kiss you over and over and over.

**Author's Note:**

> [“Anita Ekberg” by Mickey Pallas](https://www.artsy.net/artwork/mickey-pallas-anita-ekberg)
> 
> [“Les Berlingots” by Fernand Fonssagrives](https://www.michaelhoppengallery.com/artists/129-fernand-fonssagrives/overview/#/artworks/9630)
> 
> -
> 
> **Worked shoot** \- A wrestler seemingly going "off script", often revealing elements of out-of-universe reality, but actually doing so as a fully planned part of the show.
> 
> Find me on [my tumblr](https://the-wayward-rose.tumblr.com).


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